My Rhyme
by RhymeandMush
Summary: Rhyme is a Manhattan newsie. A Russian-Italian immigrant, she came to New York to start a new life, but things didn't go as planned. Now living as a newsie, she faces her toughest challenge in the summer of 1899. The newsies are going on strike, and she's a leader. But a certain romantic complicates things, making Rhyme wonder if she really can win this fight. Mush x OC
1. Prologue

**So, this is my newsie story. I went with the original newsies.**

**Morris Cohen is Jack Kelly and Dave Simmons is David Jacobs.**

**Racetrack, Spot, Mush, Boots, Crutchy, and Kid Blink were all real. **

**But I threw in some girls since there were actual girl newsies.**

**This is Rhyme, a newsgirl's, story. **

**I'll soon have Angel, another newsgirl you'll see in this story, and her story up soon. So, enjoy.**

**Prologue**

Every newsie wanted something.

Morris wanted out of New York. Racetrack wanted his own box at Sheephead. Spot wanted to be the king of Brooklyn.

Kid Blink wanted to be a hero. Crutchy wanted a normal life, Mush wanted a real job, I wanted to live. And Angel? Well, Angel just wanted to sell newspapers.

But it wasn't so easy to get what you wanted, even in New York.

Even so, I was still going to do the best I could.

And as sure as the Brooklyn Bridge was standing, I was going to win this strike and make sure the newsboys got at least a taste of what good life was.


	2. Still A Prologue

**So, this is my newsie story. I went with the original newsies.**

**Morris Cohen is Jack Kelly and Dave Simmons is David Jacobs.**

**Racetrack, Spot, Mush, Boots, Crutchy, and Kid Blink were all real. **

**But I threw in some girls since there were actual girl newsies.**

**This is Rhyme, a newsgirl's, story. **

**I'll soon have Angel, another newsgirl you'll see in this story, and her story up soon. So, enjoy.**

**Prologue**

Every newsie wanted something.

Morris wanted out of New York. Racetrack wanted his own box at Sheephead. Spot wanted to be the king of Brooklyn.

Kid Blink wanted to be a hero. Crutchy wanted a normal life, Mush wanted a real job, I wanted to live. And Angel? Well, Angel just wanted to sell newspapers.

But it wasn't so easy to get what you wanted, even in New York.

Even so, I was still going to do the best I could.

And as sure as the Brooklyn Bridge was standing, I was going to win this strike and make sure the newsboys got at least a taste of what good life was.


	3. Chapter 1

**So, this is my newsie story. I went with the original newsies.**

**Morris Cohen is Jack Kelly and Dave Simmons is David Jacobs.**

**Racetrack, Spot, Mush, Boots, Crutchy, and Kid Blink were all real. **

**But I threw in some girls since there were actual girl newsies.**

**This is Rhyme, a newsgirl's, story. **

**I'll soon have Angel, another newsgirl you'll see in this story, and her story up soon. So, enjoy.**

**  
Prologue**

Every newsie wanted something.

Morris wanted out of New York. Racetrack wanted his own box at Sheephead. Spot wanted to be the king of Brooklyn.

Kid Blink wanted to be a hero. Crutchy wanted a normal life, Mush wanted a real job, I wanted to live. And Angel? Well, Angel just wanted to sell newspapers.

But it wasn't so easy to get what you wanted, even in New York.

Even so, I was still going to do the best I could.

And as sure as the Brooklyn Bridge was standing, I was going to win this strike and make sure the newsboys got at least a taste of what good life was.

**Chapter One**

It was the summer of 1899, and it was the most brutal one ever. It took everything I had to pull myself out of my bunk. It also took everything I had not to kick Mush in the face because he ripped my sheet off.

"Up and at 'em Rhyme! We got papes ta sell!" He all but yelled in my ear. I ran a hand through my hair. "Mushy, I love ya and everythin', but I likes me sheet." He shrugged his large shoulders and gave me a goofy grin. "Oh well." He had his suspenders thrown over one shoulder, no shirt, and one of his pant legs were raised higher than the other. He held out a hand, which I took, and pulled me from my bunk. I stumbled through the crowd of newsboys trying to get ready and stopped in front of the mirror. I had dirt on me. Everywhere.

I fought my way to one of the stalls designated for the girls of the lodging house and locked myself inside. I hung my clothes over the door and ran the water. It was warm, but just barely. I was busy pouring it over myself when someone knocked on the door. "Hey, uh, Rhyme, where ya sellin' today?" Racetrack asked. It wasn't hard to know who Racetrack was, his Italian-Manhattan accent was as thick as Kid Blink's. "I dunno, Race. Maybe I'll take to Brooklyn with Angel." I heard Race laugh. "Tell ol' Spotty I say hi. I'll see 'im at the races." I smile.  
"Hey Race, pass the soap!" I shout as I pour more water over myself. He slides a bar under the door. "Thanks!" I finish my shower and dry myself off, getting dressed quickly. My hair is still wet, so I shake it, spraying the boys next to me with cold water. I look at my reflection in a cracked mirror. My face isn't thin and pretty like Angel's. I have chubby cheeks and big black eyes. A cute, sweet face that matched my short stature. I wasn't thick or fat or anything, there wasn't enough food for that. I just wasn't skinny, like those girls the boys always gawked at. I stuffed my hair under my cap and tied my shoes, running to catch the boys.

I caught up to Angel, who had a cup of coffee waiting for me. It was weak, but that and a roll was better than nothing. Angel was one of the only other girl newsies in Manhattan, but she could pass for a rich girl anytime. Her hair went past her waist and was so blonde it was pure white. She piled and pinned it under her cap every morning to avoid attention. She was tall and thin, with bright, beautiful blue eyes. Her skin was pale, her eyelashes long and dark. She had a perfect face and structure, and it was hard for her to look like the boys. She gained attention from boys all over the place, and made the most money. But she gave what she didn't need to those who did. Kid walked up, sporting his eyepatch. "Heya Blind Diamond, where ya sellin' today?" I ask. Kid Blink was the guy everyone in the Manhattan newsies looked up to. He was blind in one eye, and wore an eyepatch. He and Angel had been friends since they were small. Angel had gotten off of the boat going to America that was in front of mine. We met months apart. But when I arrived, Angel had already struck up business and an attachment to Kid. Kid Blink became the "leader" of Manhattan after the old one became too old to be a newsboy. See, New York was a working powerhouse, and it depended on the kids to work it. Kids were cheaper to employ, and being a newsboy was easy to get into, but hard to keep. You could live in a lodging house, but you would have to be able to pay every week, and that weighs in with having to eat. Nobody on the outside really knew what we kids went through, but that was about to change.

"Same place as always, Rhyme." Kid finally answered. "Tonight we all're headin' ta Brooklyn. 'Ere's a party goin' on, an we's been invited." I can see Angel's hand twitch at the name Conlon, but she hides it quickly. Kid tips his hat to us and heads off to his usual spot on Longacre Square. I look at Angel and she shrugs. "Let's get to work." And together we head off, pushing through the crowded streets of New York to the newspaper stand. Angel and I sold together sometimes, and other times we split and then gave what was left over to some of the little ones so they could buy food. The line for papers was already going down. Most of the boys were already out and selling. I stepped up to the window, smiling politely at Hamond. Everyone hated when Hamond ran the window. He was slimy, creepy, and weird. Usually we got a little old man who hobbled, but didn't take crap from the scabs who worked in the stand. He ran the place, and he was good at it. But I would have to stop grumbling about him not being there and deal with Hamond for the day.  
"Seventy, the usual." I say, licking my thumb and counting change out of my pocket. Hamond yells the number to the back, and a scab, who was a newsboy who would side with his employer instead of the rest of the newsboys, brought him a bundle. He passed it through the window to me, and I passed him my money, careful not to touch him. He was a small guy, skinny, with a thin mustache and dark eyes. He had an oily comb over and long thin fingers. He also had an unhealthy interest in Angel, making a point of talking to her every time he saw her. Angel handled it calmly. She got her papers, tipped her hat, and hurried down the steps to join me. I smiled calmly. "Central Park?" I ask, and she nods quickly. Together we make our way there. We stand back to back and look over the papers. "Rhyme, you see this?" Angel asks, and I do. "Yeah." On the front page is a line of immigrants just off a boat, waiting for passage through Ellis Island. The title is "IMMIGRANTS TO FLOOD NEW YORK AGAIN. ARE JOBS SECURE?" Angel and I both being immigrants, we knew firsthand what the paper was going to hold. The bashing of immigrants wasn't anything knew, but that doesn't mean it didn't make us angry. I arrived in America when I was barely the age of six from Russia. On Ellis Island, I was humiliated along with hundreds of others as I was checked for disease and medical issues. My mother was an Italian, my father a Russian, and we left a week before I would turn six. I celebrated my birthday on the ship. And then when we stopped for the first time, my parents were carried off on cots, covered in white sheets. Disease had broken out and there wasn't a cure. I was one of the only ones who didn't get sick. So I made the trip by myself. Angel had come on the boat ahead of me. As far as I knew, she came by herself. She was German and Russian, and was raised in Germany. She spoke both languages, and had been able to hide her accent easily. I on the other hand slipped out of my Brooklyn and into my Russian accent on occasion, even though I had no idea that I was doing it. But when I was hawking papers, it was always New York.

"Extra! Extra! Immigrants to overrun New York! Bosses say jobs may not be secure! Extra!" Sometimes you had to change the title up to make some change. A man stops and I hand him a paper. He's too busy to count change and just gives me a handful. I pocket it quickly. "Thank you, have a nice day sir." I say, and he waves it off and moves on. A group of women are chattering as they pass me. "'Cuse me ladies, lovely dresses by the way, but would ya care for a paper? We gots a hot headline today." I hold one out. One woman takes it. She wears a large feathered hat, and she's stinkin' rich. Her group all whisper around her as she reads a little. "Alright. I'll take one." She pulls out a coin purse. "Just a penny, ma'am." She hands it to me, and the rest of her group all buy papers. "Thank ya kindly, madams." I say, tipping my hat to them. They like it if you're polite. The papers sell until I have about ten left, and the afternoon is slipping. A group of boys who are obviously skipping school stop by me. They're taller than me, probably around sixteen, which is my age. But I was pretty small for my age anyways. The tallest one, probably the ringleader, leans a little to look at me. He's a pretty boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes. I look up at him and hold out a paper. "Hiya boys. Paper?" One takes it and looks it over. He smiles at me and rips it in half. I sigh. "Now 'tat wasn't very nice. Ya gonna have ta pay fa dat." The blonde laughs. "Hear that accent, boys? Cute, huh? In fact, I think this one's pretty cute." I realize now that they've figured out I'm a girl. "Sorry sweetheart, but we aren't gonna pay. In fact, you are." They start closing in. There's no one left in my corner of Central Park, not even Angel is here anymore. The two boys in the back grab my arms before I can say anything. They pin me to a tree, standing on my feet so I can't kick. The blonde one slips his leg between mine and lifts me off the ground by a few centimeters. I squeak at the sudden action, but there is no way for me to get down. There's pressure in places there really shouldn't be. But the blonde laughs and pops a button on my shirt. He gets three undone before he slips his hand into my shirt and runs into my bindings. "Dammit." He hisses and reaches behind me. He begins to pull on the pieces with one hand, the other holding my chin. I turn my head at the moment he gets it a little looser and bite his hand. He yelps and drops his leg. The other two let go in shock. I don't waste time, I just run. I don't look back till I round the corner, and the boys are right behind me. I don't have time to jump a trolley, so I keep running. I'm not fast enough to catch a carriage. My breathing starts to get shallow after a block, but they were still behind me. I turn and run three more steps before slamming into Mush. Mush being a wall of muscle, he stops me instantly. He grabs my waist as I almost fall over. "Rhyme? Why ya runnin'?" I don't have any air to answer him, but I look over my shoulder just as the boys get to me. My eyes widen, and I grip Mush's arms tightly. He gets the picture and wraps an arm around my waist, the other resting in the small of my back. "Hey man, the girl's ours." The blonde says, catching his breath. Mush looks down at me. "These guys botherin' ya, babe?" I look up at him and nod, catching on. Mush looks over his shoulder and whistles. "Hey boys. These scabs are messin' with my goil." Right on cue, Racetrack, Kid Blink, Morris, and Boots stroll up. Kid looks at the boys. "Oh dey is, is dey? Well, whaddya say we make 'em stop, eh, Morris?" Morris smiles. "Yeah, I say we do. Whaddya say, Race?" He takes his cigar from his mouth. "Hmm. I says you gots a good idea boys. Let's soak 'em." The boys have blank faces. It only takes them a second to turn and run, Kid and the other boys following. Mush looks down at me. "Rhyme, what happen'? Why were they chasin' ya?" I opened my mouth to answer, when Mush pushed me away gently so he could look at me. Once he took in my disheveled appearance, my unbuttoned shirt and slipping bindings, his eyes widened. I pulled my sleeve up higher onto my shoulder and tried to cover myself. "Oh God, Rhyme…" I winced at the tone of his voice. "They pinned me in Central Park. There wasn't anyone else around to help. So I bit one and ran." Mush grips my arms tightly. "I'll kill 'em." I look up at him and realize how angry he is. We weren't even together, but the way he was acting was just like Kid Blink acted around Angel when she was in trouble. Worried, jealous, protective. "Mush, I promise I'm fine." He grit his teeth and looked like he wanted to say something, but Kid Blink ran up, followed by the other boys. "They didn't get very far. We soaked 'em." Mush turned to Kid Blink, fuming. "Kid! They, I mean, they…Look at 'er!" He spun me around to face Kid. Kid narrowed his eye and scanned over me. "Rhyme… Damn!" He turned his head away. I buttoned up my shirt hurriedly. "I'm alright. It was me own fault." He sighed. "Let's get to da lodgin' house." Mush tugged me close to him, and I let him. If I argued he'd just get upset. Everyone was back at the lodging house already, and they were all ready to go. Angel was waiting by the door, and when she saw Mush and I, she raised an eyebrow, but I shook my head. Kid waved a hand, and the boys flooded out the door, laughing and pushing each other. I was still stuck in Mush's side as we made our way to Brooklyn.


End file.
